No Regrets: The End of our IVF Journey

My IVF journey is over.

Our family is complete.

Despite frequent and fervent prayer, little Bertie didn't stick.

We would have spent well over $10,000 in the last twelve months, giving each of our seven frozen embryos a chance at life and trying for a fourth little miracle.

I could tell myself I should have lost weight. Eaten differently. Meditated more. I could look back at each moment, trying to find where I went wrong.

But I'm not. I'm choosing to believe that it just wasn't meant to be.

I'm going to be extra gentle with myself as I go through the inevitable nausea, abdominal pain and emotional upheaval that a sudden withdrawal from high doses of hormone therapy brings.

I'm going to celebrate and enjoy the beautiful family that I have.

Photo by Chris Clinnick - the best professional photographer ever!

And I'm going to move into the future with confidence, knowing that I gave it my all.

No regrets.

The Last Embryo

Introducing ... our very last embryo:

Bertie

I've christened him 'Bertie'. For no other reason than I just felt like it.

But I was talking to Grace about what she would call a little brother (she insists it would be a boy). She feels he should be called 'Unicorn Cutie-Bob'. I have no idea where that came from!

I've been praying very hard this time for one last miracle. And I know others have been too. I'm choosing to spend the two week wait thinking positively. Or at least, as positively as you can on this many hormones!

That said, I am aware that I have been very blessed. And once I got over the initial disappointment, I think I would be more than OK with the three beautiful daughters we have.

There are many mixed emotions during this last cycle. It's hard to believe this is our 19th embryo. Our 14th transfer. What a journey! But worth every moment.

Here's hoping little Bertie sticks.

Ten sleeps and we'll know.

The Beginning of the End

This is it.

Today is "Day One" of my very last IVF cycle.

In many ways, that's a good thing. As I've shared here on more than one occasion, doing IVF is financially expensive, physically challenging, and emotionally draining.

But it is also a little bit sad.

This has been my life, on and off, for just over five years. The process is familiar. So are many of the people I see. I'm used to life being very structured, with certain things happening on certain days. I know my Melbourne IVF patient number so well I accidentally put it on a work document recently instead of my employee number!

Behind these walls each of my daughters was born.

I enjoy the acupuncture that I undergo as an adjunct to my IVF treatment, and value highly the support I have received from staff at Fertile Ground Health Group. I know parts of East Melbourne like the back of my hand ... and have put enough coins in parking meters there to sink a ship!

Still, change happens. And it can be very exciting. A new start awaits.

In the meantime, I hope to be mindful as I go through this cycle. I want to pay tribute to all the people who have supported me on this journey. I want to honour the embryos that haven't survived, as well as the beautiful three that did. And I want to show respect to this body, which has been through so much to get me to where I am today.

Have you experienced an ending that was also a new beginning?

New Years Resolutions 2014

No, I'm not going to go through my goals for 2013 and analyse my performance.

Let's just say that if 2013 were an exam, I wouldn't have passed!

I still aim to nurture the relationships in my life. I'd love to do better this year at all the things I wanted to do last year. But I don't intend to make a list of specific goals this time around. Why set myself up for failure?

I have, however, been doing some reading recently, and it has helped to shape my thinking about the new year.

I stayed up very late a few nights ago to read the book 'Resurrection Year', by Sheridan Voysey (published in 2013 by Thomas Nelson). And it was worth the lack of sleep!

Recommended reading.

The book describes the 10 year journey Voysey and his wife travelled in their (ultimately unsuccessful) quest to have a child. Voysey's account of their experiences with IVF is familiar to anyone who has been there. And it is all the more poignant to me because way back in 2008 I was a talkback caller on Open House and we had a brief conversation regarding IVF. I had no idea at the time that it was so personally relevant to him as well!

While the couple's struggle with infertility is covered in the book, it concentrates more on their "resurrection year" afterward. It chronicles their experiences travelling overseas in search of a new beginning. Their search for answers to the spiritual questions about why God allowed their suffering is covered. And we see them gradually develop new passions and purposes in life.

Let me say at the outset that my experience is nothing like theirs. I've struggled with infertility, but my dreams were realised. I have three beautiful daughters.

My best friend is unable to have children. She battles a very rare and serious chronic disease. And a few months ago, she sustained a severe head injury in a cycling accident, from which she is still recovering. When I think about what she has been through, I feel guilty for complaining about anything!

However, there is an element of grief associated with the IVF process, the losses suffered along the way, and our failure (to date) to conceive our desired fourth child. I am sad to be coming to the end of my childbearing years, and struggling to work out who I am when I'm not just a new mother. It feels like I am entering a significant transition in my life, and the idea of taking a year to explore the options and develop a new identity really resonates.

The other piece I read was an article entitled "Resolve To Be Happy" by Holly Becker, which was published in Issue 34 of Molly Makes.

My favourite magazine.

In it, Becker suggests that being content, mindful and joyful is of much more value than comparing ourselves to others and constantly making lists about how we could be better.

I agree with her that it is easy to spend so much time planning for the road ahead that I fail to enjoy the current moment. I think joy does contribute to creativity and productivity, and I know it is a big part of the solution to my struggles with weight and body image.

The illustration accompanying the article features this quote a the top:

"Criticise yourself less and love yourself more ... open up your heart to what you already have."

The final influence on my goals for the year is a personal testimony given by the friend I mentioned above (found here). I have a great deal of admiration for her courage, and for her faith.

My personal faith has suffered in recent years due to a whole range of factors. But I'd like to get it back. I'd like to be able to stand with her and say that no matter what life brings, 'It is Well With My Soul'.

And that is my one resolution.

For Those on the IVF Journey ...

I am by no means an expert on IVF. But I've been there. 

Five years. Two stimulation cycles. Eighteen embryos. Thirteen transfers. One miscarriage. Three daughters. 

One remaining embryo. One more glimmer of hope.

Your experience is unique. Your struggles are personal. There are no easy answers. You’re well aware of that. But I hope you will find some encouragement in what I’ve learned along the way.

The Biblical counsel I have clung to through my own IVF experience is this: 

“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Ps 46:10)

Be still … the multitude of questions that are running through your mind. Will this cycle be successful? Am I pregnant? Did eating that chocolate bar ruin my chances?  I feel (insert symptom here) – what does that mean? Is it just a side effect of the medications, or is it something more?

Try to stop analysing, and just be. Stick to the process. Look after yourself. And recognise that whether that precious embryo implants or not is out of your control. Commit it into God’s hands, and leave the result to Him.

Be still … your fingers on the computer keyboard. Forums can be very helpful and supportive. But try not to compare yourself with others.

During the two week wait, the urge to constantly google ‘early symptoms of pregnancy’ is overwhelming. But it’s rarely helpful. I found replacing my internet time with a guided relaxation that helped me to think positively made a big difference.

Be still … the thoughts that haunt you. Maybe it isn’t meant to be. Has God answered ‘no’ to your request for a child? Are you pushing too far? Not showing enough faith? Taking matters into your own hands?

God has promised that He will guide you (Is 58:11). Pray about your decisions. Surrender to Him. Move ahead in faith. And trust that He will make it clear when it’s time to stop.

Be still … the anxiety. Can you afford to do this again? Where will the money come from? Will you be able to take time off from work at the right time of the month? Will you have to tell your boss what is going on? Claim the peace that is promised when you present your requests to God. (Phil 4:16,17)

Be still ... the guilt. Wanting another child does not mean you are ungrateful or fail to appreciate the blessings God has given you. Spending money on IVF treatment does not automatically mean you are selfish. There is a time for everything (Ecc 3:1-8).

Be still … the mental arithmetic. Understanding success rates and all the variables based on her age, his age, the clinic, the procedure and more requires a Ph D. Let it go if you can. Rates are averages. They give an indication of what might happen. But they can’t offer you any certainty.

Be still … the angst in your relationship. Your life becomes a round of appointments, injections, scans, and procedures. There is guilt associated with putting your partner through so much, or failing them once again. The hormones make you moody. The financial pressures leave you tense.

Try to spend some special time together. Walking, eating out, watching a movie – whatever works for you. Take a break from the roller coaster and do something you used to enjoy together before IVF took over your life.

Be still … and know.

Know … that I am God. I am everlasting and untiring, the Creator of all the earth. (Is 40:28) For me, nothing is impossible. (Matt 19:26) I am able to do more than you can ask or imagine. (Eph 3:20)

Know … that I have a plan for your life. It might not look exactly like the vision you have in mind. But I have promised to give you hope, and a future. (Jer 29:11) I have promised to work for your good in all things. (Rom 8:28) Trust me.

Know … that I hear your prayers. (Is 65:24) Your failure to conceive doesn’t mean you are less worthy as a person. It doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be or aren't a wonderful parent. It doesn’t mean you are less valuable to me. And it doesn’t mean that I am not listening to you. I have heard your cries. (Ps 6:8)

Know … that I love your unborn blastocyst/embryo/foetus even more than you do.  I know each new life even before it comes to be. (Jer 1:5) The womb is not a mystery to me. (Ps 139:13)

Know … that I am with you always. (Matt 28:20) As you cry and pray together, I am there. As you inject, inhale, insert or swallow yet more medication, I am there. As you anxiously wait and wonder, I am there. And as you receive the phone call or see the bleeding that heralds another failure, I am there.

Know … that I love you. There is nothing that can separate you from my love. (Rom 8:38,39) Nothing. Ever. One day it will all make sense. (1 Cor 13:12) But for now, let me love you. Let me hold you. (Is 41:10) Let me be enough for you.

A Progesterone Pause

My recent absence was not a pregnant pause.

Claude didn't make it.

Neither did Penny.

RIP Penny.

Short for 'penultimate', she was about as lucky as any of the lucky pennies my friend Denise and I found while travelling in the USA.

We're planning a much needed break over Christmas before giving our very last little frozen embryo a chance in January.

The last two cycles have involved me taking 5 x 400 mg progesterone pessaries daily for about 16 days. At $4 each, that's expensive. It's a much higher dose than normal. And it is challenging.

While on the progesterone, I have experienced fatigue, nausea, bloating, constipation, breast tenderness ... essentially, I have felt pregnant. But I'm not.

Emotionally, I have become irritable. Less patient with the girls. Less patient with Neil.

I've felt flat. Down. So much so, that by the end of the cycle everything seems hopeless. I feel like I've been swallowed up by a huge cloud of despair.

I inserted my last progesterone pessaries this morning.

I'm looking forward to the cloud lifting.

I'm back.

Introducing ... Claude!

Who is so named because he will be due, if he decides to stick around, on Bastille Day next year.

"Claude"

We unfortunately lost one in the thawing process, so have two frozen embryos remaining.

The main concern at the moment is that the level of one of the hormones in my blood is about half what the doctor would like it to be. It is hard to understand, because each cycle I take the same dose of medication, administered in the same way, but the levels vary significantly. For now they have doubled my medication, and I have another blood test on Saturday morning to check how it is going.

I'm praying that, God willing, Claude will be our elusive fourth child. At the same time, I'm trying to be relaxed in the present, and not think too far ahead. It's quite a balancing act!

My pregnancy blood test is scheduled for Thursday, 7th November. The two week wait begins again!

Another One Bites The Dust ...

Yes.

Another break in posting means there's been some things happening.

One of them was ... George didn't make it.

The dreaded single line strikes again.

But ... life goes on.

A new cycle is already well underway.

I have a scan tomorrow, and another transfer later this week.

There are four more embryos left.

Four more chances for one more child.

There are no guarantees. No crystal balls. No certainty.

Except ... we're getting closer and closer to knowing the final outcome.

It will all be over soon, one way or another.

Like it or not, the end is in sight.

Another Frozen Embryo Transfer

Allow me to introduce you to 'George'. Or maybe it's 'Georgina'. We don't know yet. But hopefully one day we'll find out!

"George"

This is a photo of the little 3 day old embryo that I had transferred this morning. A blood test in a fortnight will tell us if it has implanted or not.

I worked out this morning that this is the 11th transfer I have had. And I have three lovely daughters to show for it.

Earlier this year (while I was having a break from blogging) I had two other transfers. These are the embryos that didn't make it:

"Stumpy"

"Seraphina"

Emotionally, it helps me to have acknowledged their existence. At the beginning of our IVF journey we had a little ritual to remember each one, as it helped to bring closure to one cycle so that we could be fully present for the next. We don't do that anymore, so this is my way of remembering them.

If you are curious about the nicknames, all our embryos have had them. We pick names we are unlikely to actually use, for all sorts of reasons. We've had Aloysius, Hepzibah, Alfonso, Jemima and plenty more (there have been 15 embryos so far). Grace was originally "Jock", Charlotte was "Randy", and Lucinda was "Ollie".

I'm glad to now be in a place where I will be content no matter what the outcome. I have my preferences, of course! But I'm praying that God will have his hand over the process and that whatever happens will be His will. I can't do better than that!

It's Looking Good

It was another milestone today ... the first visit to the obstetrician. I'm now 8 weeks 2 days pregnant, and things are going well so far.

Here's the latest photo of our new little Finnegan:

I saw the baby's heartbeat at the six week scan with the IVF specialist, but any reassurance that gave me was quickly dispelled by her lecture regarding the ongoing risks we were facing.

Today was much more positive. The obstetrician is upbeat and encouraging. According to him, everything is looking great. Less than twelve months since I last saw him, we're now back in the system and working our way through all the appointments, tests and procedures that go along with pregnancy.

I've been experiencing a lot of nausea and fatigue, but so far no vomiting. As first trimesters go, it could certainly be worse.

Most of all, I'm just so grateful for this new little life we have been entrusted with. Having a baby grow inside you is such a precious experience that I know many women are denied. I'm not taking it for granted.

Transfer Day

This morning a precious little embryo was transferred into my womb.

This has happened plenty of times before. Seven of them have died inside me, either sometime in the first two weeks, or later down the track. Two grew to be our gorgeous daughters.

We have just completed a fresh stimulation cycle of IVF. Over the past six weeks, I decided not to bore you with the details, but here's a quick summary of what we've been up to ... tablets, nose spray, injecting myself in the tummy, 12-hourly alarms, internal ultrasounds, blood tests, a general anaesthetic, a not-very-pleasant biopsy for Neil, pain, mood swings ... you get the picture!

However, the fact that we've come back for more is evidence that the process is definitely worth it. We have two little miracles, and I'm so grateful to both the scientists, and the women who went through the earlier, much tougher IVF regimes. Without them it wouldn't be possible for us to have children.

This one is nicknamed "Ollie" - or "Mighty Bean", if you ask Aunty Janelle. Please pray with us that it sticks!